


Hummingbirds

by ohgodmyeyes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Loves His Wife, Anidala, Dancing, Domestic, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Love, Marriage, One Shot, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Secret Relationship, Short One Shot, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes
Summary: ’Hummingbirds will stop at nothing, and don't care if they appear foolish in their efforts to attract a potential mate.’Anakin Skywalker wants nothing more than to dance with his wife, particularly since observing the natural romanticism of some of the species native to her home planet of Naboo.Unfortunately, there is little cause or opportunity for dancing when a man marries his love clandestinely.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Hummingbirds

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and silly. Inspired while listening to _Hummingbird_ by Wildling.

_”What is that, Obi-Wan? It’s beautiful.”_

_”It’s a hummingbird, Anakin. A male, if I’m not mistaken.”_

_”What is it doing?”_

_”It’s dancing— likely for its mate.”_

_”...I see.”_

...

“Please, Padmé?”

“I don’t know, Ani— I’d feel silly. What would be the point?”

“We’ve never done it before. Anyway,” said Anakin with a smile, “there doesn’t have to be a ‘point’ to it.”

Anakin’s expression was infectious, and Padmé couldn’t help but mirror it... even if she didn’t exactly understand the reasoning behind her husband’s present request. “Dancing is for parties,” she told him. “You need people; music— a ballroom.” Right now, she was entirely alone with her husband; they had not been married very long. They were inside a room together in her residence on Naboo, fortunate enough to be visiting one another. The space was not small, but it was also certainly not sized or constructed for dancing; there was no music to be heard, and nothing immediately available on which music might have been played. 

He stepped away from her and toward the nearest available window; peered out of it briefly before looking back at her from over his shoulder. “The birds do it,” he said matter-of-factly. “And they don’t have music, or ballrooms, or anybody to watch them. If they don’t need those things, then why do we?”

Padmé joined Anakin at the window, and paused to observe the outdoors with him. After that, she looked up at his face. He was handsome, kind, and brave; she loved him very much. It was moments such as this one, however, which reminded her that he was younger than he often seemed... that he was still just that little blonde boy from Tattooine, behind his various Jedi accoutrements.

“I don’t know. You’re right, but...” She trailed off. She’d been taught to dance in school. The instruction had been very formal, and the circumstances under which she could imagine herself using the skills she’d acquired were somewhat limited.

“If I’m right,” he suggested as he turned to face her once more, “then let me just try. Husbands are supposed to dance with their wives.” They hadn’t danced on their wedding night; they hadn’t danced before or since, either. A secret marriage meant that Anakin and Padmé did not have the privilege of doing many of the things in which newlywed couples typically took pleasure: There had been no honeymoon for them; no party with their families or friends. There’d been no banquet, no rings; no talk of children. 

They didn’t have much of anything to signify their relationship, really; nothing palpable— so, why couldn’t they at least have a dance? Especially if no one was going to see them?

Anakin took a step back, and then he held out his hand. It was ungloved; its durasteel accents shining in the light from the window. “Just this once,” he assured her, “and then I’ll never ask you to do it again.” After that, he repeated himself; this time more emphatically, _”Please?”_

Padmé sighed, but the smile her husband had put on her face did not leave her. She looked him up-and-down; she liked to do that, because sometimes she was awestruck by the man he had grown into since she’d first met him. Occasionally, she needed to remind herself that he was, in fact, still her Ani.

 _Of course_ he was still her Ani. He always would be, wouldn’t he?

Her smile turned into a grin. She loved the way he gazed at her. “...Alright,” she surrendered tentatively. “Maybe you _are_ right.” She took his hand; in spite of its construction, it was as warm as she knew the rest of him to be. As he drew her in close, she warned him, “We’re going to look silly, you know.”

Anakin had never cared much about whether he looked silly or not.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he told her pointedly as he held her to his chest; looked down at her face. She was inconceivably beautiful, and he knew that she loved him. _”I just want to dance with my wife.”_

Padmé understood. She let him lead her to the centre of the room, and once they were there, she took on the position she’d been taught to assume when an occasion called for dancing. She took his left hand— the flesh-and-blood one— in hers, and allowed him to place his durasteel prosthesis on her back. Looking into his eyes, she reached upward; set her remaining free hand down upon his leather-clad shoulder. They stood like this staring at one another for a few long moments, before Padmé finally asked, “Aren’t you going to start?”

Anakin’s face went red and his grin turned sheepish as he confessed to his wife, “...I don’t actually know how. I’ve only watched birds do it. I thought that you could, maybe— well—”

She didn’t mean to, but Padmé let out a little laugh. Fortunately, her Ani did not mind. “You’d like me to lead?”

He nodded, because at that moment it was all he found himself able to do. For as intimate as their connection had become, sometimes she still made him freeze up in trepidation. It was a consequence of how much he loved her, and also of how unaccustomed he was to expressing as much.

“Okay, Ani,” she said to him. “I’ll lead.” She shifted their pose, then, and began to do just that. His height made it a bit awkward for the both of them; besides, Padmé had not been taught to assume the lead— not while dancing, anyway. She’d had enough exposure to the craft, however, that she was able to manage taking her husband around the room with some semblance of grace; fulfil the desire he’d expressed to her. It was a sweet desire, she thought; he deserved it.

She was also certain that they did, in fact, look silly— sillier than she’d even anticipated. Much like Anakin, though, she was unconcerned with the way either of them might have appeared. In that moment, the only thought in her head was that she was enjoying this dance with her husband; their first since being wed. 

As the birds flitting about outside the window provided both music and an audience for the lovestruck couple, Padmé found herself hoping that— in spite of the secrecy of their bond— they would get the opportunity to share many, many more.


End file.
